


Mellow Meatballs

by lady_meatball



Series: Thanksgiving in Boston [8]
Category: American Actor RPF, Chris Evans (Actor) RPF
Genre: Domestic!Evans, F/M, Fluff, Gen, K C & the Sunshine Band, K&C
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:03:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9111712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_meatball/pseuds/lady_meatball
Summary: Chris and Katie make it back to Boston, get checked into their hotel and have a low-key ‘date’ night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings- Alluded smut, sweet, fluffy goodness

  *   


[Originally posted by everythingrelationshipsx](https://tmblr.co/Zdtpfh2BdcoQy)

“Where are we staying, Chris?” I asked, watching the city light up before my eyes as Chris crossed the bridge spanning the Charles River; he had been so good about playing teacher in the two visits to his home turf, explaining local histories, telling me little tidbits about different places, even sitting down and answering any and every question I had to ask over Google Maps on night. It was time consuming, but I was starting to be able to navigate on my own, and he was proud I had done some studying on my own.

He took a moment to answer, his face showing he knew I’d put up a stink when he flipped the blinker on to warn of us turning onto Beacon Street; “Downtown.” he told me vaguely, a little grin curling the left side of his face as he glanced over at me once we came up to an intersection.

“ _Where_ downtown?” I asked, but the way he was evading my question told me it was expensive.

“It’s a surprise.” He smiled, loving the fact I was growing more and more agitated, but he reached over, squeezing my knee reassuringly as he went on, “And I don’t want to hear _‘Babe, it’s too much! It’s too expensive!’_ because, yes it is. It’s Thanksgiving weekend, and I was lucky to book a room period. It was going to be expensive no matter where I got a room…”

“You could have booked a Best Western on the edge of town and I would have been happy.” I said, butting in on his train of thought.

“Even the B.W.’s were charging an arm and leg, at least, the ones that still had rooms were-” he sighed as he finally got his turn to continue through the four-way stop. “-And besides, you’ll get an amazing view of one of most beloved spots in Boston from our window, and where I’m taking you for dinner is like a ten-fifteen minute walk from our hotel…we’ll be central for touristy shit tomorrow too.”

“I appreciate it, Chris, I really do, but…” I said, turning to face him in my seat better, the urban landscape rolling past the windows, ever so slowly getting taller and more industrial the closer to the city ‘center’ we got.

“ _Buuuuuuttttt_?”

“It’s not all about money. Please remember that…”

“Babe-” He smiled, his voice loud and exasperated as he explained, “-we’re getting married. You were pregnant with my child. You don’t get to keep leaning on the _‘Stop spending money on me, it makes me uncomfortable’_ crutch…because I hate to break it to you, in about a month and a half you’re name is going to be on my bank account, the credit cards too…so, please, stop thinking of it as me trying to ‘buy your love’. I think we’re well past that now, babe…”

“It’s just really hard for me to not see the value in what you’re spending, Chris…it’s a habit from going from privileged as a child to living in a mobile home and having to budget everything as a teen, because even though my parents made sure I had what I needed, we couldn’t always afford what I wanted. It’s a question I ask myself all the time, ‘Do I need to drop cash on this or can I manage without it to make sure I have what I need with that money?’, it’s a hard habit to break, so please…just know, I’m working on it.”

Turning my face to look out the window, I mumbled to myself, “Doesn’t mean I like it though.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” I sighed.

He had been right, it was definitely rush hour, the freeway packed when I was able to catch glimpses from the surface street we drove on, Beacon turning into Brighton before eventually becoming Commonwealth. The trees lining the center divider were almost completely bare, with a thin carpet of fallen leaves resting underneath the boughs, just waiting for a strong gust of wind to send them scattering.

Chris pulled up to stop, waiting for the oncoming cars to pass to turn right. He was watching out his window when I spoke up.

“That’s the Commons, right? The Public Gardens?” I asked, pointing straight ahead, seeing the street lights lining the paths just beyond the entrance on the west side.

“Yup. Once we get checked in, and put a few more layers on, I figure we can walk over and explore a little bit…our hotel is just right up there.” He said, pointing to the right when the light turned green, allowing us to turn. Before I knew it, we sat at another light, waiting to turn onto Boylston, and only a few short minutes after that Chris was indicating we were turning into the Four Seasons Valet, the beautiful red brick facade speaking of the rich and storied history of the hotel and the city surrounding it.

* * *

Standing outside the door of our room, I unlocked it while Chris stood behind me, our suitcases parked on either side of him; he lowered his face, pressing his lips to my cheek in a tender show of affection just as the lock tumbled and I pushed the door open.

“What was that for?” I asked suspiciously, holding the handle to prevent the security lock from triggering if the door closed.

“Because I could.” Chris grinned. “And because I know you’re gonna flip when you open that door.”

Exhaling loudly, I pushed the door wide, and wasn’t disappointed. He had booked more room than we needed, having a separate sitting area that took up the majority of the room.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, counting to ten in my head.

“I wuv you…” His voice sounded softly next to my ear as he stepped into my back, pushing me to move over the threshold into our lodgings. Opening my eyes, I led the way, but remained silent. “Are you really mad, babe?” Chris asked, rolling the bags inside the door to allow him to shut and lock it. Turning to face me, he leaned back against the door, arms crossing his chest. “‘Cause, you kinda look mad…”

“I’m not mad-” I said as I reached for my suitcase. Pulling it to me, I ran my tongue over my teeth in waning irritation, as the image of itty bitty Thumper reciting the old adage of ‘If you ain’t got nothin’ nice to say, don’t say anything at all’ repeated over and over in my mind, so I changed the subject, heading further into the room, adding, “-Let’s just get unpacked, change into warmer clothes and go do some of that exploring you promised me…”

“Yes, you are! You’re upset.” He said, pointing out the obvious. “Babe…” He had started to say something, but I turned around, letting a sliver of my irritation and frustration be known.

“I promise you, I’m not upset, but if you keep insisting that I am, then I’m going to be! I don’t want to talk about it, Chris but it looks like we’re going to anyway…” I snapped just a tad sharply. Catching myself, I paused, closing my eyes again and taking a deep breath. “I’m not mad, upset, or angry…I’m frustrated because this is such a point of tension between us. Believe me, I’m well aware of the fact that I can’t use my ‘that’s too expensive’ excuse for much longer, but you have to remember, Chris…I’ve been living a vastly different lifestyle from what you’re used to for a very long time. I’ve had moments where I don’t know how I’m going to manage to float from one paycheck to the next up until this last year. So, while I appreciate the fact you got us a room to have some ‘us’ time, the fact it’s an executive suite and could sleep the about three more people…I’m having a hard time justifying all this extra room for just you and me when we aren’t planning on spending time here other than to sleep tonight and tomorrow.”

“Would it make you feel better knowing that this was the smaller of the two rooms they had available when I called? I knew you’d be like this-” He said, forehead lifting high as he pulled one arm free from in front of his chest, extending it out to point in my direction, alluding to my reaction. “-so I got the smaller room.”

Pushing off of the door, he stepped forward, stopping in front of me; looking down slightly to make me meet his eyes. “Like I said earlier, I was lucky they still had rooms available, but I also know how you feel about the spending…but you said it, I’m used to a certain of comfort, and I know it’s a work in progress, adjusting to my lifestyle, but I promise-” he told me, raising his hand to brush his knuckles over my cheek, “-it’s not a bad one. Don’t think about the dollar signs, babe. You won’t ever have to worry about making ends meet again, that’s my job…bringing home the bacon, putting a roof over our heads, and keeping up with our family’s needs.” He smiled softly down at me for a long moment before he nodded his face towards the window, adding, “Go check out the view.”

It was after dark when we had arrived, so the sight of the park across the street dotted with lights illuminating the walkways was magical with the restricted view of the lake sparkling with the reflected light that reached the water.

“Wow…” I breathed, my hands holding the curtains and sheers back to gaze my fill; Chris’ barely audible chuckle caught my ear as he came to wrap his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.

“Right? Does the view make for price, babe?” He asked; I could see his smile reflected in the glass in front of us. I nodded, holding his arms tight. “Come on, I figure we can go eat, and come back to walk around the Garden, look at the statues, maybe even stop by the Frog Pond…but we’re gonna have to stop and find some gloves first.” he said, nudging me back from the window.

By the time we had unpacked, relaxed for a minute and threw on another layer (or two, in my case), it was after 6 when we stepped out of the lobby and onto the sidewalk.  Chris kept on and on about buying me a pair of gloves, which I had continuously scoffed at.

‘I’m a big girl, I tie my own sandals and everything! I can manage fifteen minutes in the open, I’ve lived in snow country before, remember?’ I had retorted, stuffing my hands in the pockets of his heavy canvas jacket I had commandeered earlier in the week; I hadn’t been planning to spend as much time outside of Lisa’s house and had packed sweatshirts, not a jacket and had learned my lesson.

‘We’re gonna be out longer than fifteen or twenty minutes…” He reminded me as he draped his left arm around my shoulders, making sure he walked on the street side. His right hand fiddled and adjusted his cap before burying in his jacket pocket. “Ya know, you are ridiculously hard headed and stubborn sometimes…but lucky for you, you’re also ridiculously cute with a whole lotta sexy, so I let it slide…”

My face tipped back as I let out a stream of hearty belly laughs while we started up, crossing the street when the signal changed. It was so cold you could see your breath when you exhaled.

“Like a horse digging it’s hooves in, right?” I grinned, turning my face to his; he chuckled nodding. Pulling one hand from the jacket, I held it up in front of me, counting off. “Half Italian, part Irish, part Scottish, fire sign, spoiled rotten baby of the family, AND my star sign has the body of that strong willed horse that refuses to do anything it doesn’t want to…believe it or not, that’s not the first time that analogy has been made, Chris!” I laughed.

“You are a feisty little fillie, that’s for sure.”

We walked in our little bubble of coziness, talking quietly as we dodged the few other people out and about for the next few blocks, Chris finally steering us towards the entrance of Marshalls.

Emerging twenty minutes later, we both were the proud new owners of insulated gloves, scarves and in my case, a micro-fleece lined ear muff wrap headband, which Chris insisted I wear the rest of the walk down Boylston to our destination.

“Stop fighting me, woman! Just humor me okay?” Chris growled as he tried to get the headband on me, but I kept dodging him and swatting at his hands; it wasn’t long before we stood outside of Marshalls, cracking up at how funny we must have looked. “So help me…put the damn thing on, Katie. I don’t want you catching cold and getting sick. It’s the last thing you need, flying back to Vegas and having to power through feeling like shit the last few weeks at all your jobs.-” he held the material in his fist, shaking it in my face as he went on, his voice softening to tell me, “-If this keeps up, we’ll get some more snow…how you liking your first taste of Massachusetts winters, babe?”

“You’re lucky I love you, that’s all I have to say.” I parried back, snatching the band from his hand to pull over my head and work into place, making sure my ears were covered before fixing the scarf around my neck. Tilting my face up to his, I reached my hand between us, pointing my finger in his jacket covered chest, adding, “If it snows, I’m not leaving that bed. You can venture out for coffee or whatever it is you what, but my ass is hunkering down.”

“You California girls…you just don’t know what to do if it drops below 70 degrees, do you?” Chris giggled, holding his arm out for me to link mine through. “What are you gonna do when we get hit with a blizzard that drops six feet of snow, Kay?”

“I aint leaving the house!” I proclaimed, glancing at him as we crossed another intersection.

“And what about our kids?”

“I’ll fucking home-school ‘em! Charter schools, best things ever! Nope, I’ll hunker down and hibernate.”

“OhmyGahd…you’re too much sometimes, you know that? You’re gonna have to venture out in the weather, babe. It’s a fact of life…”

“Nope.” I said, laughing as I shook my head in denial which only made him laugh harder. “That’s what basement pantries and root cellars are for, right?” I moved closer, pressing into his side as my hand found his and I twined my fingers with his. “It’s fine if I’m inside, watching it through a picture window, snug and cozy with  tea, coffee or hot cocoa, but being out in it and driving?-” I explained, shaking my head in wide sweeps, telling him, “No thank you. The Sierra’s scarred me for life.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad, Kay…the mountains, redwood forests…I bet it looked like a postcard!” Chris said, smiling as he painted the idea picture in his head for me, but I had to burst his bubble.

“Sure…for the initial first hour or two, then it freezes and becomes ice, people from the bay and the valley can’t drive in it…narrow, winding mountainous roads and black ice don’t mix, Chris…I mean, have _YOU_ driven an ‘85 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme in the middle of white out, up a mountain at 3 AM? Because I have. It’s not fun…and I learned that rear wheel drive vehicles have no business being in the snow the hard way.”

His hearty laughs were music to my ears, and the cloud of steam that enveloped his head as his breath collided with the cold air made me grin as I hugged his arm tight.

* * *

“Chris-” I said, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand, getting his attention from the menu that he skimmed over before telling him, with a huge grin, “-I love it. This is the kind of place I grew up going to on family trips to the coast!”

The left side of his mouth curled upwards as he pulled his hand from my grip, only to lace his fingers with mine, palms touching, making memories of us in a similar position on our first date play across the front of my mind; setting the menu back on the table, Chris prompted me to go on.

“What’s your favorite out of the different restaurants like this you’ve been to?” He asked.

“Ohhh…” I cooed through pursed lips, taking a quick second to find my answer. “Phil’s Fish Market. It’s in this extremely tiny little community in the middle of the Monterey Bay, called Moss Landing. They’ve been on Food Network, in Sunset magazine…their Coppino is out of this world, supposedly! My dad used to rave about it!” I told him, describing the very nondescript warehouse style building in the small harbor, how the fresh fish market took up the front right part of the building, the restaurant occupied the side and back of the interior…”It’s always swamped, and their portions are huge! And after you eat, the sand dune beach is about 150 feet away, and you can see seals and sea otters playing in the water. San Fran is nice and all, don’t get me wrong, it was always exciting to go to the big city and walk the Pier, but Moss Landing…it’s magical.”

“You’ll have to take me, one of these days. You’ve seen my old stomping grounds, I wanna see where you grew up!” Chris told me, leaning closer over the table to talk; the restaurant wasn’t packed full, but it was busy enough to need to speak up or get cozy to converse.

“I really think you’ll fall in love with the Sierra’s…” I smiled shyly. “I keep having this image of you in my head, all scruffy, out in the forest up in the high country, thermal shirt, worn flannel and jeans being a lumberjack and coming back to a cabin with a string of freshwater trout, a gold pan and biggest smile on your face.” I confessed, watching his grin spread as I painted the picture for him.

“That sounds like Heaven…only it’s missing a few things.”

“And what would those things be?” I asked, having an idea of what he was going to say next, but I wanted to hear the words from his mouth. He drew in a deep breath, chest puffing out before he spoke.

“You, a kid or two and D. Then it would be perfect…” He sighed wistfully, eyes going soft at the thought he seemed to be envisioning in his mind.

“No, perfect would be you in a union suit, making a fire at dawn out in the woods while camping.” I playfully argued.

“Union suit? What the hell’s a union suit?” He asked with a chuckle, raising his right hand to lift his cap off his head to scratch his scalp before putting it back on his head.

“One piece long johns the prospectors used to wear. It was their underwear…” I answered, lifting my brows high as I waited for him to acknowledge he knew what I was talking about, but he only mirrored my facial expression, showing he still didn’t know exactly what I had been talking about, so I added, “Ya know, the onesies with the flaps on the butt?”

“Ohh!” He said, finally things clicking into place.

“It’s a good thing you’re cute, Evans!” I laughed, shaking my head at him in amusement. Teasing him further, I went on, saying, “Sometimes you aren’t the brightest crayon in the box, babe…but you sure are pretty to look at, sort of like Robin’s Egg Blue!”

“Hey!” He squawked indignantly, but his giggles soon couldn’t be contained at my dig. “So sassy tonight! You just might be in for more than you bargained for once we get back to the hotel, Missy…”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” I said, winking flirtatiously.

He closed his eyes, a blissful smile appearing on his face.

“I fahking love you, ya know…” Chris barely whispered, squeezing my hand to back up the words with action of an affectionate nature.

I knew he was still cautious of showing too much affection of a more intimate nature in public; he had good reason to be I came to realize. Scrolling through Instagram earlier in the week, I found pictures of us with Jules and Gronk while at the bar, pictures of Chris and I at the burger joint with Scott after we picked him up from the airport, and even pictures of Chris and I at the kid’s school on Wednesday to pick them up. We hadn’t been as cautious as we should have been, but other than the photos of me pressed against Chris under the umbrella, we had been close, but not overly demonstrative in our affections…but the facial expressions seemed to give us away. His beaming grin reaching his eyes, and the warm, soft smile I wore as we stood huddled together while laughing with one of the kids’ mothers over something was the one thing that kept coming up in the comments.

**He looks so happy! That’s the Evans we all know and love!**

**This is what a ‘happy couple’ look like, not like other women he’s been paired with! Happy Chris makes me happy.**

**So they’re a thing? Like, can they just make it official and say they’re together already?**

**She’s in Boston for Thanksgiving…bets on whether or not she goes to WDW with his family next month. I’m thinking yes…and with the way they’re moving, maybe a proposal?**

I didn’t show Chris, but then I didn’t have to…his team had been updating him on things posted to his tags on social media, and he got enough direct messages and tweets with the attached photos that he knew exactly what was going on. And it had been unspoken between us, that while back in the city, if we were out, it was back to ‘junior high dating rules’-hands to yourself, hands above the table, be friendly, but no P.D.A.

This was us in the moment, not caring about the few other tables full of older couples, or families of tourists looking to warm themselves up.

“I love you too, Mr. Potato Head.” I mouthed right back to him, squeezing his hand once more as the waiter approached to take our orders.

* * *

“Well, are you happy now?” Chris asked as we stepped back outside into the night air. He was pulling the zipper closed on his jacket while I tugged on my gloves. “Did the chowda taste better here in Boston than it does back in California?”

Chortling, I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at him.

“It was pretty damn delicious, I’ll give you that, but the picatta-” I said, giving a low whistle of appreciation, “-they made it perfectly!”

The soft sound of his chuckle met my ears as I watched his shoulders shake slightly.

“Come on, I fed you, let’s…” He started to say, but his eyes flicked to the windows behind me.

“Let’s play a little game…” Chris smiled, reaching out to turn me about face with his hand on my shoulder, his other arm extended to point at the shop doorway a little further down. I raised an eyebrow as he guided me, glancing up at the sign.

“And just what game are we playing, Chris?” I asked as the big white block letters of the Crate & Barrel logo passed overhead. He stopped at the door, reaching for the handle and holding the door open for me.

“‘Redecorate the house’-” He said quietly as I walked passed, waiting for him just inside the door. He came up after entering, leaning in close to my ear and went on, telling me, “-you’ve seen my place…it’s a designer decorated bachelor pad…in a couple of weeks, it’s gonna be a ‘home’, our home. Show me what kind of stuff you want to add to make it yours…”

“Chris…I like the house how it is…” I said, but he cut me off from adding anything else with a finger to my lips.

“Shhh-” He shushed me, a smile curling the corners of his mouth as he leaned his face in close to mine, whispering, “-then tell me how you want to decorate the house we end up buying _together_ , the one here in Massachusetts. Tell me what you want for our future…tell me what you see, babe. Humor me, okay?”

I stood in place, staring at him for a minute while he made cute faces trying to make me smile…eventually, it worked, and I sighed resignedly, telling him he won. He closed that last few inches between our faces and pecked a quick kiss to my lips, unable to help himself.

“You probably shouldn’t have done that…”

His face turning slightly from side to side allowed him to check for witnesses, but the closest people to us were so engrossed in kitchen linens, he smirked as he turned back to me once more, pressing his lips to mine in a more thorough display.

“I’ll take my chances.” He mumbled against my mouth before pulling back. 

Standing tall, he looked around once more, gaining his bearings. “Pick a room, any room. Where do you wanna start?”

I took in the themed sections surrounding us, spotting the one I always gravitated to and reached for Chris’ hand, tugging him to follow me; it wasn’t long before I pulled up in front of the area designated for kitchen items.

“I should have known.” Chris shook his head, amused. His eyes sparkled from under the bill of his baseball cap as I smiled, moving to scan the shelves and displays with small appliances, crockery, linens and everything else for my favorite room of the house.

I felt him following in my wake, keeping back to observe but close enough to hold a quiet conversation with about the items I liked or had stopped at to admire.

“Ya know what I’ve always wanted?” I asked rhetorically, standing in front of a display utilizing a hanging rack for pots and utensils. I knew full well he wouldn’t know, because this was something I’d never spoken out loud.

“No…what?”

“I want a great big kitchen…one you can entertain in, because that’s where everybody always ends up anyways!” I said softly. Chris’s hand settled low on my waist as he joined me, his face turning to watch me as I went on. “A kitchen with one of those huge islands, with plenty of counter space and racks like this hanging from the ceiling…somewhere to feed an army, because I think we’ll probably need it, between the football team you want me to give you, your immediate family and your extended family…”

“So you want a big house…with a really big kitchen…” He repeated, laughing.

“Yeah, but what I REALLY want…I want to be the house that’s always full to the brim with our kids’ friends. I want wherever we live to be warm, cozy and open to our loved ones…I want birthday parties, and holidays, and backyard B.B.Q.’s…I want the memories, because my house wasn’t that house growing up.” I confessed, still staring up at the shiny copper rack. The feeling of Chris’ hand rubbing over the material of my jacket covering my hip was reassuring.

“So you want a ‘halfway house’?” He smiled, his tone trying to lighten my mood. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got lots of practice in that scenario, because that was our house growing up! You want tips and advice, you talk to Ma…she’ll steer you through any type of situation with that.”

“She’s a good woman.” I nodded, inhaling deeply. “I’ll be very happy to call her Ma for the rest of my life…”

I caught the mile wide smile spread over Chris’ face out of the corner of my eye, making my own lips curl at the corners.

We moved around the store, hitting each of the departments to browse and pick out pieces of furniture we both liked for our hypothetical new house, some pieces an easy agreement over, others requiring more effort and eventual compromise.

Crossing from the Bedroom showroom into the Nursery and Kid’s department, we both glanced around, making sure we were alone before looking at one another.

Chris’ mouth lifted sadly on one side, his left hand reaching for mine.

“We should have been shopping for KC…” he whispered against my my temple before pressing his lips to my skin. “How would you have wanted to decorate, Kay? Walk me through what the nursery would have looked like.”

Swallowing, took a breath before blowing it out, thinking about what he was asking me to do. Slowly, things started pulling together in my mind.

“I’m thinking the room right before your master…” I said, visualizing the space as I led Chris in the direction of the cribs and other baby furniture. “I’m thinking a cool, off white paint, with a soft, sage green accent wall-” I told him as we halted in front of the different styles of cribs, bassinets, changing tables and dressers. “-with dark purple and grey accents. Billowy sheers over the windows…and this crib.”

I pointed at a white crib that proclaimed to be convertible, growing with your baby to suit their needs from birth into childhood with a linen covered ‘headboard’.

Chris looked at the tag, hanging his head with a smile.

“Always so practical…my little bargain hunter. Trying to get the most bang your buck, huh?” He laughed, teasing me gently.

“It’s a hard habit to break, I told you!” I smiled, turning to look at the bassinets; instantly, I recoiled from the sight in front of me. It was a white base with black bars on the sides. Pointing at it, I made a horrified sound in the back of my throat, getting Chris to turn around.

“Who would buy that? It looks like a baby prison cell!” Chris exclaimed. His startled expression told me I didn’t need to worry about seeing it ever ending up in our house. Scanning the other designs, I pointed to one that looked like a whitewashed wooden crate on tall rockers.

“Now this one…this one I like.” I said, stepping over to push it gently to move back and forth. “It’s a little on the tall side for my preference, but anything that’s gonna help get a wailing baby out for the count is good in my book.”

Chris stood a couple of steps back, just watching me, silent as I looked at the glider chairs set up nearby.

“None of these are right…you want a chair with tall arm rests to support you rocking and soothing a baby. Those little shits get heavy…” I said as I turned, looking over all the options that this store had on display, I shook my head in frustration, not finding anything I liked; I found Chris watching me, his hand moving over his mouth while his left arm was held across his chest, supporting his elbow. It was the quiet, slightly broody look wore when trying to fight off arousal in an inopportune moment…I was very familiar with that look, I’d been seeing it since almost the very moment we had first met. Stepping forward, I crossed those last few feet between us, softly asking, “Babe, do you wanna get out of here?”

His exhaled snort preceded the tiny lift of his cheek.

“This really shouldn’t be turning me on-” Chris admitted rather guiltily, his hand moving from his mouth to cup the back of his neck; it was a nervous habit of his that found so endearing, especially when he looked so shy and embarrassed, like he did in that moment. “-but I can picture it, and I won’t lie, the you in my head is ready to pop, but fahk she looks gorgeous.”

“We’re not walking around the Commons tonight are we?” I giggled, dancing my fingers up the front of jacket to hold the open front pieces. His head swung from side to side.

“Nope.” He answered, tilting his face to angle into mine better; his hands lifting to cradle my cheeks as he demonstrated what he had in mind for the rest of the night with a steamy kiss. “I figure we get you Starbucks to keep you warm on the walk back, get you naked, and just be lazy in the fuzzy robes, just like you wanted.”

“All while making a dent in that brand new box of condoms, right?” I snickered.

“Yeah. I mean you do owe me for this morning…” He winked, closing in for another kiss.

* * *

The first waft of coffee beans hit me square in the face upon opening the door; Chris gave me endless shit for my ‘Bux habit, but I knew it was in jest. Stopping at different locations was something I’d been doing since middle school, and I had a fairly decent sized collection of the ‘You Are Here Mugs’ that I had purchased on my limited travels or that friends and family had given me as presents. My goal of adding a Boston mug to my collection was going to be fulfilled as I snagged one from a merchandise wall bay and jumped in line, while Chris headed back to the restrooms.

The line had been minimal, and I was flagged over to place my order shortly after joining the queue.

The young man behind the register smiled offering a greeting as I approached, setting the mug on the counter.

“Hello. May I please have…let’s go for a grande decaf Americano, black with just a tiny bit of space so it won’t splash, and…a venti decaf Caramel Brulee with three pumps Chestnut Praline, breve, and no brulee topping but can I have the praline topping instead?”

The barista tapped in my order quickly, the familiar sound of finger knocking against the touch screen making me smile as he pulled the mug from the box to scan.

“I also have partner numbers.” I told him as he got the lid from the other side of the box to secure my cup before placing it in the handle bag. He smiled across the counter at me, asking for my ID and my partner card. Looking at the gift card displays, I couldn’t find one with Boston on it, so I asked, “You don’t happen to have any of City Cards, do you?”

“I’m sorry, we’re all out at the moment, but we do have some of our ‘You Are Here’ ornaments left. They’re in that basket, right there.” Johnny the Barista offered pointing at another wall bay. Holding up a finger, I indicated I’d be right back as I found the ornament to add to my collection as well.

He gave me my total after my discount, handing over my bag just as Chris came out of the restroom and my name was called at the hand off plane.

“A grande decaf Americano with lite room and a venti Caramel Brulle with three pumps Chestnut Praline, Breve, with whip, no brulee toppings sub praline for Tinkerbell!”

Chris’s face broke into a laugh as he joined me, shaking his head.

“You should know better, you have to do that shit!” He chuckled as I reached for his drink, handing it over.

“Not for much longer.” I reminded him with a smile of my own as I lifted my drink to tap against his. “Cheers, Mr. Potato Head.”

“Am I ever going to outgrow that nick name?”

“Probably not…how about Poopsie, instead?” I joked.

* * *

We crossed the street after leaving Starbucks, working our way back up Boylston; Chris had my little bag with my mug and ornament on his right wrist, my left arm hooked with his to share heat, while our opposite hands were in charge of our drinks.

He had pointed out the Boston Public Library on our way to dinner, and I spent the first part of our walk back to our Hotel talking about it. He had smiled, telling me about field trips in elementary school and junior high to the various important buildings around the city. We made plans to eventually come back, preferably in the spring, to enjoy the ‘tourist’ activities, including trips to the Library, and the Freedom Trail.

Chris had pulled me along after him as we crossed the street and reached Copley Square. He pointed out the different buildings, and eventually stopped us in front of a large, beautiful church.

“I promised you statues, so this is the one for the marathon runners…” He had laughed as he pointed at the ground. A bronze hare sat scratching his ear as a bronze tortoise continued his slow and steady pace a few feet ahead of him.

“They’re cute, but this church-” I said, smiling as I turned from the statue to the building just to our right, thoroughly impressed by the low lights focused up at the facade. “- _THIS_ is beautiful!”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as lover of organized religion, babe…” Chris mused, turning to join me as I walked closer to the building for a better look.

“I’m not.” I told him, but realizing how that must have sounded, I felt the need to explain further, telling him, “I mean…I’m not a big fan of organized religion in the practical sense of church every Sunday, thumping a Bible, and waving a judgemental finger at people that don’t conform to your ideals…I had enough of that in middle school. I like the notion of having a relationship, a one on one connection with God, or whatever Deity it is you choose to believe in without the politics and drama and hate that comes with religion. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the beauty of a gorgeous house of worship when I stumble across one.”

“No it doesn’t…” He agreed with a small smile as I turned back to take the sight in as best I could in the low light. His hand pulling mine from the pocket of the jacket I wore to hold happened in the same second as he asked softly, “Are you sure you don’t want a church wedding? I can’t help but feel that I’m taking away a childhood dream of yours or something with us eloping in Vegas…”

Licking my lips, I turned to look at him; the bill of his cap made it hard to see him under the shadow, but I found the sheen of light reflecting off his eyes easily enough.

“Chris…we could get married at City Hall, and I’d be okay with it. I don’t want the stress of planning a church wedding, with hundreds of guests and catering and blocks of hotel rooms…all I want is hear the words ‘man and wife’ and ‘you may kiss the bride’. I promise, you’re not robbing me of a childhood dream…Do you want a church wedding?” I asked.

“Not especially.”

“Okay then…” I smiled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek before standing back and saying, as I handed over my cup, “Here, let’s take a picture.”

We had been back in our hotel room for a couple of hours, had sex in the shower to warm up after our time out in the night air, bundled up in the plush robes and flipped through the channels while waiting for room service to arrive with dessert. We sat in bed, eating our brownie sundaes with a bottle of bubbles; the combination of chocolate sauce, whipped cream and melted ice cream led to another round of sex and Chris bringing out washcloths to wash the away the lingering stickiness. We caught the tail end of the cartoon Grinch on TBS, and I made Chris stop when I saw Love Actually on the pay menu. He had rolled his eyes, sighing like the martyr he was as he pressed purchase.

“This movie is absolute crap, you know that, right?”

“Say what you will, but it’s one of my favorites! I watch it all year long, and it fills my Grinchy little heart with Christmas feels…” I told him as the scenes in the airport opened the movie, Hugh Grant’s voice narrating in the background as I tilted my head back to grin up at him, “If you watch it without complaining, I’ll play with your weiner, deal?”

“You just seriously called my dick a ‘weiner’, didn’t you?” He asked beginning to laugh. The scene on the television changed, and Billy Mack was in studio, recording ‘Christmas is All Around’.

“Shut up and watch the movie, or I’m not playing with your ding-dong, mister.”

He had groused and complained, but it was mainly for show I had soon found out. He loved the soundtrack, we both sang along and while I knew all the dialogue, it seemed Chris knew more than a few scenes worth, as he got into the movie when Colin, Billy or David, the Prime Minister had particularly good parts.

He muttered one of Hugh Grant’s lines, and I smiled, snuggling further into his shoulder, loving the fact _he_ knew _I_ knew he was full of shit and liked this movie.

By the time the ill-fated star crossed lovers, Sarah and Carl were being interrupted in the middle of their moment, Chris laid his head on mine, resting on his shoulder.

“Theirs is the one that always struck closest to home in all the relationships.” I admitted softly as Laura Linney’s character stopped her own desire and pleasure to take her brother’s call for the second time. “Wanting something so badly, but knowing it’ll never happen…”

Chris shifted, moving to look down at my face; I turned my head just enough to look at him with a sad smile.

“Unrequited love’s a bitch. Between them and the love triangle with Keira Knightly, they do a pretty good job of showing that heartbreak…”

“Kay…-” Chris whispered, stroking his thumb over my cheek, “-let’s not talk about that asshole, please? He didn’t deserve you…”

“I realize that now-” I sighed as I sat up, reaching for Chris’ wrist to lift so I could cuddle into his side. Stretching to kiss him, I held his jaw tenderly as I pressed a sweet kiss to his lips before opening my mouth to lick at the seam of his, asking for more. I felt his hand between our bodies, fiddling with the knot on my robe; it only took him two seconds to loosen the tie and push my robe open, his fingers slipping down to cup my sex. “-I have everything I need in one stubborn, loud, pain in my ass man from Boston.” I sighed, dreamily, breaking the kiss.

“Oh, I’m a pain in the ass, huh? I’m gonna be a pain in the ass…” He growled playfully, rolling over on top of me to commence round 3; I patted the bed for the remote, hitting pause as I giggled when his beard met my neck and tickled.

* * *

Standing in the bathroom, Chris closed his eyes while relieving himself. The iconic scene of Andrew Lincoln’s character standing in front of Keira Knightley’s house with signs to finally proclaim his love for the off limits woman had just played, and with it, Katie’s earlier admission had made a light bulb click on his head, snowballing into the idea of what he’d give her for Christmas, something he’d been having trouble with…no matter what he came up with, nothing seemed to be right, until the flicker of an idea came to him just moments ago.

Stepping back from the bowl, he flushed and lowered the seat before turning back to the counter. Rinsing his hands, he dried them quickly before pulling his phone from the pocket of the robe to call down to the front desk.

“Front desk, how may I help you?”

“Hi, I was wondering…is there anyway I can get some printer paper and a Sharpie from you?”

* * *

“Babe, I’m gonna go get some ice and run down to the gift shop for snacks, is there anything you want?” Chris asked as he pulled on his underwear and lounge pants; the sound of little children singing ‘Catch a Falling Star’ drifted into the bathroom. Rounding the corner he was greeted by the sight of Katie standing in the middle of the bed, pointing at him as the school Christmas concert changed over to the big final number, with Sam’s little love, Joanna singing ‘All I Want For Christmas Is You’.

The drums kicked in and the band started up, and Katie, who had been jelly-legged and wiped out just a few minutes before, danced and bounced along as she got into the song. Chris couldn’t help the huge grin that spread across his face as he took in the sight before him.

The hem of her robe kept bouncing, showing off more and more of her legs, the tie loosening which allowed the front to part little by little, showing him glimpses of her body. The big, happy smile she wore as she hammed it up for him, performing just for him slayed him in the best way possible; pulling his phone from the robe pocket once again, he unlocked the camera, recording her.

_‘I don’t want a lot for Christmas, this is all I’m asking for…I just wanna see my baby, standing there, right outside my door!…’_ Katie sang along, crooking her finger at Chris to come join her on the mattress.

_‘Santa won’t bring me what I really need, won’t please bring my baby to me-e-e-e-e!’_

Katie flopped back onto the bed, laying back in the pillows, Chris continuing to film her impromptu music video as she pulled him down to join her; he pressed the front camera, switching to record them both as they nuzzled, kissed and cuddled to the song winding down.

“I think that’s my new favorite.” Chris breathed mid kiss as he pressed the button to end the video. “You being a goof, with tits and pussy out…”

“OhmyGod!” Katie exclaimed, reaching for his phone, but he held his arm back out of her reach.

“Don’t worry, it was only a couple of quick glimpses…God bless the maker of the Four Season’s robes. We’re keeping yours, it won’t stay closed!”

“You’re _NOT_ showing that to anybody!” Katie demanded, trying to crawl over him, but the robe opened and her nipple was dragged across his face, so he opened his mouth and latched on. “Chris!”

* * *

It was a good deal later than when he had intended to sneak down to the lobby for the paper and marker he needed to executive his idea, but the surprise show his woman gave him, coupled with more fooling around afterwards…but he managed to slip away when he finally tired Katie out. 

She was curled up in the king sized bed, dead to the world when he got back to their room with a stack of paper, a marker and a couple of candy bars from the vending machine.

He smiled at the lump her body made under the covers as he went to work at the little desk in the sitting room, a Payday hanging from his mouth as he began writing.

He stood from the desk thirty minutes later, moving about the room as quiet as a mouse to grab his iPad, and the other things he’d need to keep it propped up once he dragged the desk across the carpet to frame him in the french doors that separated the bedroom from the sitting room. He got the cards in place on the plush bench at the foot of the bed, and looked around for whatever else he might need before stepping forward to press record and start filming.

[Originally posted by llkonyvesbolt](https://tmblr.co/Zfbhkk2FyaEp2)

Stashing the papers and the rest of the evidence in the bottom of his suitcase once he finished, Chris got the desk back in it’s place, making sure the room looked like nothing had happened while she slept before Chris turned off the light in the bathroom as well as the television, stripped out of the robe and his underwear and finally crawled into bed as the clock struck 2 AM.

“I don’t want a lot for Christmas, babe. Just you.” He breathed, kissing her bare shoulder as he wrapped himself around her, spooning as he fell asleep.





End file.
